


Crossing Blades

by MrsAlwaysWrite



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: F/M, Gen, I had too much fun writing this., Sexual Tension, innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlwaysWrite/pseuds/MrsAlwaysWrite
Summary: I was sent to deliver a message to the leader of the Danes invading my beloved homeland. To give a threat and warning. Though soon I found myself crossing blades with this Ragnar Ragnarson...and not all the blades were made of iron.
Relationships: Ragnar the Younger (The Last Kingdom)/Original Female Character, Ragnar the Younger (The Last Kingdom)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Crossing Blades

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as reader or OFC. 
> 
> Irish translations are via google so apologies for inaccuracies. 
> 
> Written for a friend on tumblr. Follow me there for more goodness. @mrsalwayswrite

I watched the Dane's camp amongst the trees. Most of the Danes finally settled for the night in their bedrolls or tents, depending on their status. Two watchmen guarded but not well. Even from where I hid, it was obvious they were both fighting sleep, having drunk too much ale earlier. The whole camp was still celebrating wildly after their latest victory two days ago. Each night full of competitions and overflowing with ale. Now they slept off their debauchery. 

It was a good time to remind them that Irland would not sit idly by as they ravished her. 

"Fan anseo." I commanded the men with me. (Wait here.)

"Ní maith liom é seo." One of my warriors said, eyeing the camp warily. (I do not like this.)

I turned my hardened gaze on him. Even in the darkness surrounding us, I knew he could feel my ire. "Fanfaidh tú anseo." I waited, staring him down, until he nodded then looked at the others. They either gave me a nod or looked away. No one was pleased with my plan but I cared not. If it could save the lives of my men and my village, it was worth it. I would prefer to slit the throats of the Danes in their sleep, but we were not sent to do that. Not yet anyway. (You will wait here.)

Quickly I tied my hair back in a warrior's braid, before I checked my sword on my hip and scian. This was it. I was to walk into the enemy’s camp. Silently, I prayed to the gods that this would not result in my death. Towards the Danes' camp, I stalked in the night’s darkness. It took no small amount of time to maneuver through the underbrush without alerting the watchmen and make my way to the specific tent. 

Watching the camp for the past several hours, I knew exactly where to go. He was hard to miss. The Danes' leader was a tall, boisterous man who both laughed and fought with everything in him, giving his all-in life and everything he did. It would have been an admirable trait...if he was not a Dane. 

Silently I crept to the tent and slipped inside, only the shadows disturbed by my presence. He lay on his bedroll, chest rising and falling slowly as one in a deep sleep. The tent was small, only meant for one or two persons to dwell. I could easily see in the darkness that his weapons were just out of reach of his hand. Foolish. As I stepped closer, prepared to enact my plan, I noticed something that caused me to halt for a brief moment.

He was naked. 

The heat from the summer's day still lingered in the air. Outside, a light breeze further lessened the heat. Inside the tent, the air clung to the heat like a lover’s embrace. He must have stripped down in hopes of remaining cool while he slept...or he had drunk too much. 

I sighed briefly before continuing closer. I had not planned on dealing with a naked man tonight. 

Though staring at him, it was impossible to ignore his handsome features. His blond hair was wild, no longer pulled back while he slept. The tattoo upon his forehead intrigued me, smoothed out so all its lines and curves were easily seen. I found myself wanting to trace it. His beard, tied together as if an arrow pointed downward, drew my eyes to his broad chest, faint scars on it from past battles. Unable to help myself, my eyes continued their perusal...down, down, down until I could not help but notice his large…

No. That was not why I was here. Even if it was impressive.

Internally I chastised myself. I had a job to do. A message to deliver. 

Moving to stand over him, I lightly touched the tip of my sword to the base of his throat. While in the forest I had unsheathed it so the noise would not wake the Dane and to have it at the ready if I needed it. The feel of the hilt in my hand gave me comfort. 

Now if he was a good warrior, the simple touch should rouse him and I could enact my plan. The tip of my sword tapped his throat and I mentally prepared myself for him to wake. 

Only he did not. 

He mumbled something, lips pursed for a second and turned his face the other way. In a moment, snores could be heard coming from him. 

I had not been expecting that. 

The longer I lingered, the greater the chance of my getting caught by someone other than this fool increased exponentially. I needed him to wake up now. 

"I dtigh diabhail _"_ I swore before tapping his chest with my sword more firmly, but not enough to draw blood. I quietly hissed at him, hoping this would bring him back to the living. "Wake up, Dane!" 

Immediately, his eyes popped open. "What is this?" He asked, his voice gravelly and sluggish from sleep.

I did not like the shiver his voice sent down my spine...nor how he openly _admired_ my body standing over him. If I dropped to my knees, I would be straddling him and then he could…

No. Focus. 

"Ya are the one they call Ragnar, yes?" I confirmed, my sword back at the base of his throat. 

"I am, yes."

"I am here as a warnin'. Ya take ya men and ya ships and leave Irland. If ya continue to attack, my people will kill ya."

"Why do you not kill me now?" He made a vague gesture with his hands, tattoo furrowed on his forehead. "I am defenseless."

I understood that he meant to show he was without a weapon. In his voice I could hear the calm confusion and interest, not the fear I had meant to instill. That vague gesture had also momentarily dropped my eyes back down to his chest, that firm, strong core...and the weapon that currently lay on his lower belly, slowly hardening as we spoke. 

Did he like a woman with a sword in hand straddling him?

I gritted my teeth, drawing my eyes back up to bore into his. "I would. My chief wishes to not spill unnecessary blood, thus I bring the warnin'."

"Mmm. And if I choose not to leave? Will you fight me?"

"Aye, and I hope ya have a bigger sword than lay under me. Could not scare a mouse with it." 

He opened his mouth and laughed. The sound fought to bring a smile to my own lips, which I fervently denied. He was the enemy, no matter how attractive I found him. When he finished, he moved his hands, putting them behind his head as if we were just casually talking. "It is not the size of the sword that matters, but how one wields it." Then he winked at me. 

Cocky bastard. 

"Still, ya could use some sharpenin'."

He smiled broadly, those dark blue eyes openly perusing my body without shame. I hated how much I enjoyed it. 

My message delivered, the need to leave became foremost. My men still waited for me in the surrounding forest. We needed to retreat back to our village. I had no doubt the Danes would come. At least I had gathered an impression of their leader. He would be formidable. 

"Do I have ya word, ya will not make a sound as I leave. I give ya life and my warnin'. Ya will allow me to go?"

He met my eyes once again. Was that respect I saw in them? "I swear, I will not call out."

"Good." I moved from standing over him, and crept towards the flap at the back of the tent, still facing him. I did not fully trust his word and refused to be caught unawares if he attacked with my back turned. 

"I look forward to our next encounter...” He still lay there, hands behind his head but watching me with a roguish smirk upon his face. “...and if you choose to visit me again, you could assist me with my sharpening." 

"I dare not. I might break ya tiny sword." I slipped out into the surrounding forest, his rowdy laughter following me into the darkness. 

Weaving my way through the forest and back towards my men, I thought about Ragnar. He was not what I had been expecting. In another life perhaps I would have allowed my attraction towards him to grow… but he was a Dane, invading my homeland. I doubted he would heed my warning, so the likelihood of us crossing blades was high. 

Though there was one blade of his I would not mind crossing. 


End file.
